After serving on the south Britannian coast, Siobhan was no stranger to air raids. She would run ammunition to AA guns, evacuate the wounded or otherwise undertake some such vital background task; it had happened so many times before that she barely flinched as red beams scoured the scrublands. However, stuck on a truck and without a Striker Unit, Siobhan couldn't have been more helpless as the Neuroi wiped out the lead truck, erasing another handful of lives in an instant. For a moment she thought that the beams might find them next, but as the shadow dove, their new 2iC downed it with a precision triple shot; quite impressive considering the relative speeds of both the truck and her target. A small part of Siobhan felt the need to resupply the Captain, but she managed to rein it in... Old habits died hard.

During the briefing she took the time to check out her new wing mates, hoping to find at least one person she could get along with... The 509th had a bit of an odd makeup for a Witch unit; most seemed to be in their late teens and presumably approaching the end of their magical careers. It seemed a bit odd to have so many older Witches assigned to such a new formation... Regardless it was the addition of a [i]boy[/i] that galled Siobhan most. Warlocks were more of an urban legend than anything else, one that she was quite certain to be fake. Perhaps he was a maintenance tech..? So distracted was she by her new comrades that when the order came to suit up, Siobhan fumbled, staggering out of her chair and tripping head over heels... She didn't wait for the others to mock her however and took off at all speed to the hangars. A passing thought registered that she hadn't been assigned sleeping quarters, but that was hardly an issue. She preferred to rough it anyway.

A couple of minutes later she stomped heavily out of the hangar, still uncomfortable in her newly issued A15 Crusader Unit. To date she had only ever used recovery or transport units, nothing remotely powerful as an actual combat unit; it was like going from a truck to a tank. Siobhan reached their fall in position just after another Land Witch who seemed to be... eating sandwiches..? She checked the rank insignia on the Witch's arm; Sergeant, likely Liberion from her uniform. [b]'Feeling peckish, Sarge?'[/b] Siobhan tried to sound both friendly and respectful; chances were she was one of, if not the lowest ranked Witch present... Might as well get used to talking with deference.